


Need You Now

by deandoesthingstome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demons, Drinking, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Kissing, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5987239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandoesthingstome/pseuds/deandoesthingstome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader isn't a hunter, but she lives the life with her Uncle sometimes. When she meets Dean, it's intense until he sends her away for her own safety. That is a lonely time. Based on the song by Lady Antebellum</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need You Now

Snippets of photo booth images and Polaroids were scattered among the empty beer bottles across the hardwood floor of your apartment. The bottle of tequila had given up the ghost hours ago. Goofy faces and seductive glances stared back at you. Deep emerald eyes, steel jaw, bare chest. You saw yourself happy, caught up in an unexpected twirl, the picture likely snapped by Sam or Bobby during a brief hiatus the boys had taken from hunting. 

In that time you had gotten to know Dean Winchester as more than just a gruff, bad ass who had time for no one's shit. You had breezed in through your uncle's front door in the middle of a bout of research for a hunt. Dean was a third of the way into his personal bottle of hunter's helper and shot you a look of disapproval. After your uncle had introduced you first to surly Dean, then Sam, who politely apologized for his brother's behavior, you took your bags to the room at the top of the stairs that had always been yours.

Pausing to realize the room wasn't vacant, you were startled when a strong hand was placed on your shoulder. Dean apologized for sneaking up on you, for staring you down when you arrived unexpectedly and most of all for taking your room. He offered to pack up, but you declined so he did the next best thing and reached for your bags, letting you lead the way to another guest room down the hall.

You knew the life but weren’t a hunter. Not like Uncle Bobby or the Winchesters. Helping out around the salvage yard had given you plenty of opportunities to show Dean you knew your stuff when it came to old cars. He was continually impressed with your ability to hunt down a part needed to keep Baby running smoothly.

By the time he and Sam took a long overdue break, you had succeeded in breaking down a few of Dean's walls. When you invited him for a picnic, half expecting an excuse for why it wouldn't be a good idea, your heart leapt at his affirmation. Day after day, you two found reasons to get away together, alone.

He had been uncharacteristically shy when he asked to kiss you the first time. Less shy when his hands found their way to your waist as he pulled you in closer to the kiss. Yet even as your tongue wove its way past his soft lips, he never stopped asking permission to touch, unbutton, caress.

He wanted to know if the way he smoothed his hands over your hips felt good. He needed to know if you liked the way he stroked your clit, if one finger was enough or if you wanted another deep inside your dripping core. Did it feel good when he nipped lightly at your neck or would you rather he sucked harder?

He was slow and deliberate when he guided you to the bed, kissing you softly while exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue. He sat you down gently and reached to pull your shirt off, asking okay first. You returned the pleasantry as you reached for his belt buckle.

Pushing down his jeans and boxers, you lifted him into your mouth as you snuck an upward glance to see the pleasure wash over his face. Licking and sucking brought him fully to life and he begged you not to stop. You obliged happily.

As his hot liquid found the path to the back of your throat, his hands grasped your head firmly, fingers woven through your hair. When he was spent, he moved his hands to your shoulders and lifted you back up into another soul searching kiss before removing his own shirt. Then he asked if he could return the favor.

He was eager, removing your pants with speed and guiding you back down to the bed just as quickly. Desire raced through every fiber of your being as he moved between the legs he had so deftly parted with his knees. His tongue searched for sensitive spots and responded with added fervor when they were found.

Spurred on by your moans, Dean snaked fingers deep inside you, twisting and curling and stroking. He coaxed first one, then two rolling orgasms from you as his tongue and fingers worked in harmony to secure your pleasure. When you could stand it no more, too sensitive to endure additional attention, you pushed him away with a sigh and small laugh.

When Dean had entered you for the first time, you felt fuller and more satisfied than you ever had before. This wasn't just physical. Dean was reaching a space deep in your core along with one in your soul you never expected would be found.

He had rolled you gently, urging you to straddle his waist and placed firm hands on your hips to assist your grind as you worked your way to another sweet release. When he felt you clench around him he sat up quickly, placing hungry kisses along your chest, licking and sucking at your nipples and pressing his mouth to your neck.

Just as quickly he rolled you back over and picked up his pace, driving relentlessly. When you worked your hands free from his strong grip above your head, you drew up your knees and grabbed behind your thighs to give him more space. He found it and brought you one last rush of heat and juice before exploding inside you as well.

Weeks passed. The boys were back on the road but you welcomed Dean with open arms whenever the hunt brought them near the salvage yard. But when the demon found you in the alley in town and left you roughed up with a message for the Winchesters, Dean broke.

He couldn't have you in danger and didn't want to be compromised by his feelings for you. He wasn't denying what he felt for you, but he wanted it hidden. The only way to do that was to send you away and cut off contact. You were still yelling obscenities in his direction when Uncle Bobby put you in your car and promised to call you when things cooled down.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the ache. It had been months since Dean had pushed you away, fearful for your safety but without regard for your feelings. Bobby had called a few times to keep you up to date but Dean had made you promise not to call. You were missing his voice, among other things.

Every time you drank too much you pulled out your cell and contemplated dialing one of about five numbers you had for Dean. A few times you did dial, specifically picking an other, other, other number, hoping he wouldn't answer angry and you could just hear his voice on the message.

Whatever was happening tonight was not allowing you to hold back. It was 1:15 am on the display as you scrolled to "Dean1". You didn't expect the answer so soon. There was a brief pause before his deep voice called out your name, "Y/N. You promised you wouldn’t call."

"Just tell me if you ever still think of me."

Another pause, the solid thud of a heavy bottomed shot glass in the back ground, the distinctive sound of liquid pouring.

"I'm staring at Bobby's front door right now wondering how far into this bottle I'll be before you waltz in."

"Dean, I need you. I don't want to go on without you."

"You have to. It's too dangerous with me."

"I don't care."

"You have to care! I couldn't bear something happening to you."

“Dean, I spend days thinking about you. I can’t concentrate on anything. I have no control over these feelings. It hurts so much and you act like you feel nothing.”

He was silent for what felt like ages. You knew he still cared. He’d said as much without using the specific words. You needed to hear the words.

"Dean, please. Tell me you don't think about my legs around your waist. Tell me you don't imagine my taste. Tell me I never cross your mind the way you do mine."

Another long pause. You worried he was about to hang up. But then, "Turn on your GPS. Please."


End file.
